


The Call

by SomethingSalome



Series: Hannibal Flash Fiction [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:59:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingSalome/pseuds/SomethingSalome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal flash fiction part three, in which Will receives a surprising phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Call

Will had been home from the hospital for less than 24 hours when his cell phone rang. The number came up blocked. He hesitated almost to the third ring before he answered, but finally did lift the phone to his ear. He did not speak. He did not need to.

"Hello, Will." The voice was as crisp as though he was standing in the same room, although he was probably in another country. Will felt his jaw tighten, his stomach clench. This man was, for better or worse, one of the most important figures in his life. He knew he should try to call someone, try to get a trace on the phone, but he just stood where he was, unable to even move. 

"Hannibal," he replied, his voice shockingly even. "Do I even ask how you’re making this call?" 

"A pay phone," he replied. "I find that some things in life are worth the cost." 

"Where are you?" 

"How are you healing?" Hannibal said, in lieu of answer. Will said nothing for a long moment, and the other made no move to fill the silence. 

"Fine," he said. The truth was it still hurt, and badly. Not just the physical side of things either. The pain of the betrayal, even at the hands of someone he had tried to destroy, was almost worse. Sometimes, when he was drifting off to sleep, he could almost feel the warm pressure of the other man’s hand on his face, the back of his neck. Those were the scars that were the deepest. 

"When you look in the mirror at your body," Hannibal said. "Do you think of me?" 

"I haven’t looked," he said. It was true. He had barely even looked down at the mess Hannibal had made of his abdomen, let alone studied it in a mirror. He wanted nothing more than to pretend that none of it had happened. At the same time, he knew that was impossible. Too much had happened, on both explicit and implicit levels, to be ignored.

"Why don’t you look now?" Hannibal asked. Will closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look. Not because he was afraid of what he would see, but because he knew what his answer to the earlier question would be and didn’t want to give his tormenter the satisfaction. But when he opened his eyes he found that their conversation had brought him in front of his mirror in spite of his wishes. Without meaning to, without wanting to, he began to unbutton his shirt.

"When did you decide you were going to kill me?" Will said. He could almost see Hannibal’s soft smile as it curved his next words.

"I knew before I met you that you would be of interest to me," he said. "It was only after I had known you for some time that I learned what form that interest would take." There was a large, white bandage sprawling the entire width of his stomach. Will gripped one edge and carefully pealed it away. Underneath was a straight line of destruction, created in near perfection even though its creator had not been looking. It was clean, dozens of stitches. Just looking at it was enough to take Will’s breath away all over again. "Do you see?" 

"Yes," Will said. He let the bandage fall to the floor. It was against doctor’s orders to uncover it so early, but just for the moment he was taking his orders from a different doctor. 

"Touch it," he said. Will did as he said, his fingertips cautiously tracing the line of the closed gash that Hannibal had opened in him. With each bump and ridge, each tiny added jolt of pain, he imagined he could feel the presence of the Chesapeake Ripper just over his shoulder. "How does it feel?" 

"Like you," Will said. "Horrific in its perfection." 

"Does it feel good," Hannibal said. "To touch death?" 

"What I’m touching," Will almost growled. "Is survival." A memory of expensive cologne touched his nose, but he forced himself not to turn around. He was alone. He was safe. Hannibal was thousands of miles away.

"You do not feel that some part of you has died?" There was a catch in his breath at these words. As much as he wanted to attribute it to the pain in his stomach, he knew that he would be deluding himself. Part of him had died. It had died the moment Hannibal’s blade had entered his body, and no amount of denial would bring it back. His hand pressed to the scar, the one thing he had left of the most important figure in his life.

"Hannibal…"

"Goodbye, Will," he said. "Until we meet again." The words were light, bearing less weight than the click as the phone at last disconnected. Will let it fall to the floor as his body lurched with the beginnings of yet another sobbing fit. He knew he should call it in, but he didn’t. He knew there was no one there with him, but he would never be truly alone again. Fingers still clinging to his wound, he slipped to the ground to wait for the panic to pass.


End file.
